


Sam <3 Gen

by Loz



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-26
Updated: 2011-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-26 13:37:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loz/pseuds/Loz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam loves Gen. But he doesn't always entirely get his way. This is meta crack-fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sam <3 Gen

**Author's Note:**

> Written for thesmallhobbit, posted to Ao3 for chamekke.

Sam was scowling as he licked his ice cream. Gene wanted to look away, but he was compelled to keep watching, forehead creasing as he wondered why Sam was continuing to eat the damn thing if he hated it so much. Sam must have sensed his gaze, because his head snapped up and his scowl deepened. He glared back at Gene.

“I’ll take it off your hands, if you like?”

“Take what?” Sam asked before his eyes widened in comprehension. “My ice cream? You keep your greasy mitts off. I’m still not over you eating my entire box of ‘Quality Street’ last Christmas.”

“Well, if you insist on leaving things lying around.”

“It was in my locked drawer. At my flat. You were there for a minute, tops.”

Sam looked ready to rant for another twenty minutes, so Gene cut him off with the question he’d been dying to ask since he’d been mesmerised by Sam’s annoyed eyes and ever-licking tongue.

“If it’s not the ice cream that’s making you all doom and gloom, what’s wrong?”

“Have you ever heard the term ‘little black dress’?”

Gene raised his eyebrows. “I don’t make a habit of yammering on with the birdies, but it sounds fairly self-explanatory.”

“No, I don’t mean literally. It’s an analogy. All women have little black dresses, yeah? Because they’re versatile, they go well with anything, in any situation?”

“… right…”

Sam pouted. “I think they think I’m a little black dress.”

“Who?”

“The people who control my life.”

Admittedly, this was not the first time Sam had insisted that people controlled his life. He’d said, months before, that given what happened to him and how he usually reacted, he felt sure it was a few men and several women who dictated his every action and event. He didn’t seem to think they were Gods, but he did think they were all-powerful. Sam hadn’t said this for six weeks and Gene had hoped he’d realised he was being barmy.

“Sam...”

“Three weeks ago, Chris seduced me with a treacle tart and his gormless grin. Last week, Ray and I got into a fight and he ended up giving me an angry blowjob, saying I had to let off steam. On Wednesday, Annie turned off the emergency brake in the lift and had her way with me. Yesterday, Litton came by my flat, claiming he was trying to recruit me, and then claiming he was attempting to sweeten the deal with a solid rogering over the kitchen table. Just then, Gene, even you were ogling me. Little black dress, that’s me, there for the using.” Sam sighed. “It’s not like I don’t appreciate the action, it’s just… you know, sometimes a man’s tired. Sometimes he wants his life to be about something other than sex. Occasionally he’d like a bloody case to work on.”

“You can’t say no?” Gene asked. That’s all he could think to ask, because his mind was full of naked-and-sexually-provocative-Sam-images.

“I could, of course I could,” Sam answered. “At the time, I never want to.”

Sam gave a long and particularly suggestive lick, and Gene was surprised, but he felt himself harden in his trousers.

“So, what is it that you want? Some alone time?”

Sam hesitated. His cheeks flushed. “I thought I did.”

Gene edged closer, watching the flicker of Sam’s eyes to his mouth intently. “Mmm?”

Sam sounded conflicted. “You know they’re just doing again, don’t you? It’s getting to the point where I can’t have a day to myself.”

“I know that’s what you think, yeah,” Gene confirmed. He thought it was a little strange that the lust he was feeling for Sam was so sudden, but he wasn’t complaining. It had been an achingly long time since he’d seen the kind of action Sam had been describing. “Does it matter?”

Sam finished his ice cream, chucking the cone into the rubbish bin behind him. He grabbed hold of Gene’s hand and hoisted him up. “God no. Come on, I haven’t yet managed to do it in your office.”

“I should hope not, you saucy little minx.”

As Sam stripped and popped open his fly, Gene quite forgot that the plan for the night had been to finish off the paperwork and reorganise his filing system. But then, this was definitely destined to be much more fun.


End file.
